


“You reap what you sow.”

by earthraindragon1



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: F/F, i hope you'll enjoy it, i want it to make a difference, im alright with this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2019-03-18
Packaged: 2019-09-05 21:40:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16818991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/earthraindragon1/pseuds/earthraindragon1
Summary: Adora could try to pretend it wasn’t her fault. She could try to believe that Catra made her own choices, and she could try to believe she deserved any punishment she received, but quite frankly? If there was one skill she’d failed to please Shadow Weaver with, it was the art of lying.





	1. Chapter 1

If there was a thing Adora missed the most, it was the mornings. She missed the silence-not silence, the hums and whirs and _of course_ the gentle purrs from the foot of her cot, the pooling warmth of a crinkled figure tucked into a ball that made waking up _okay_.

She missed the cattiness (excusing the pun) that came with _her_ presence too. Glimmer and Bow…. they were warm and kind and sweet. The best friends Adora could ever have wished for. But, everything aside, they were Bright mooner’s through and through. They’d been given a choice between soldier and civilian, something Adora had never had, and had never even realised was a possibility (Adora would dryly wonder if she even _would_ have chosen the peaceful path given a choice, or whether she only had herself to blame for her place on the battlefield). Catra was sharp and scathing and cynical and grumpy, but Adora saw through the guise because damn it, when you knew someone all your aware life, you knew the taunting prods and jabs meant nothing at all.

Not until they did.

And Adora could _try_ to pretend it wasn’t her fault. She could _try_ to believe that Catra made her own choices, and she could _try_ to believe she deserved any punishment she received, but quite frankly? If there was one skill she’d failed to please Shadow Weaver with, it was the art of lying.

Adora had heard an expression since arriving at Bright moon, a gentle comment tossed by Angela to her daughter after yet another mishap.

**_“You reap what you sow.”_ **

Adora questioned the logic of the phrase until Glimmer, awoken by her incessant tossing and turning come bedtime, had tapped her on the shoulder, cautious and quiet in the stillness of the night.

_“So, “you reap what you sow” is the saying, right?”_

_Glimmer nodded before raising an eyebrow. “Do I have to explain what farming is or~_

_“-I’m good, I know!” Adora hissed protesting, and Glimmer narrowed her eyes. “For real, I’m good! You do know we **actually ate food** in the Horde, right?”_

_“We?”_

_Fuck._

_“ **They** , you know I mean **they.** ” Adora scowled and winced. “Anyway, “you reap what you sow” The idea is you do something, an action that affects the world, and then you receive the consequences, correct?”_

_“Sure.” Glimmer pointed to Bow’s resting figure. “Like if I stole Bow’s sweets, he wouldn’t talk to me all day.”_

_“But that’s just it!” Adora sighed, gazing at the ceiling. “It’s so variable. Maybe if Bow were feeling generous that day, he wouldn’t mind, despite the fact that if you’d done the exact same thing the day before, the consequences would have been much worse. The idea behind the phrase “you reap what you sow” is that you get what you deserve, for better or for worse.”_

_“But, like…” Adora played with the thread of her uniform. “Nobody ever seems to get what they deserve. Or at least, not the right people.”_

_“Totally, I get that, sort of. My Dad was brave, and he tried with all his heart to protect us, but that didn’t stop him from dying.” Glimmer dipped her head, pausing briefly before continuing. “Bow’s the kindest person we know, but that doesn’t mean he’s never faced hardship, or that he was just given his talents on a plate! We rarely get what we deserve Adora, we can only strive to be kind.” Glimmer placed a hand on her friend’s knee. “How comes you’re so worked up about it?”_

_“Uh.” Adora began scratching her arm, playing for time. “It’s like, eh…”_

_Glimmer raised her gaze and smiled encouragingly. “Go on.”_

_Adora exhaled, feeling the flush of her cheeks against the cool air. The jarring luminous clock Bow insisted on keeping clicked with each passing second, and Adora ran a hand through her hair._

_“Alright, soooo, um…say you left someone” Best to stay vague. Emotions were easier to handle at an arm’s length._

_“You did it because you had to for whatever reason you had. And you ask them to come with you (_ Adora asked **every. Fucking. Time)** , _but suddenly, everything’s changed, and they say **no** because you hurt them by… not being there to stop somebody else hurting them.” **A tall dark shadow hovering over their beds at lights out, steadying guns held in fingers just outgrowing a toddler’s strength, forcing them still with cold, piercing glares as terror filled sobs echoed-**_

_“You want them back, but now they seem so different, and you **know** that if they just stopped and came to you, the two of you could be happy, but they’re mad at you, and you want to be mad at them but it’s your fault really, so everything they do is because of you, and now everybody thinks that they’re a bad person because of it, so it’s like they’re the ones reaping what you sowed.” Adora broke off, breathless, shoulders tense at the silence that followed. _

_“Oh **boooy**.” _

_Adora grimaced at the reaction, blushed. The words had fallen away without her usual processing, the mechanical action of thinking through what she said before the words left her lips all but forgotten. But of course, of bloody course, speaking about how she felt always went this way, awkward and too much and best left to people like Glimmer and Bow who knew what they were feeling. Fucking idiot._

_Glimmer puffed out her cheeks, shuffling closer to Adora. “Remind me to ask how you’re doing more often, gosh.” Shaking her head, the Princess wrapped her arm around Adora, feeling the stiff hunch of the warrior’s shoulders. “You’ve really been keeping all that to yourself?”_

_Adora released a gentle shudder of surprise, ( **Catra’s arm, Catra’s claws, soft fur and tassled hair and glinting pupils and telling fanged grins fuelling a feeling of elevation in Adora’s chest)** , before leaning down to better accommodate her friend._

_“Glimmer, I was raised in a military camp. We didn’t talk about the stuff that upset us, we **hit** the stuff that upset us.” Adora grinned at Glimmer, because yes, as Mermista had mentioned, you were meant to smile after telling a joke, so people didn’t think you were going to bash their brains out. Whatever Adora’s intention, Glimmer remained frowning._

_“It’s fine though!” Adora hastily added. “Doesn’t even matter really! Just purely hypothetical, don’t worry!”_

_Glimmer blinked at her, before her brows furrowed, and the hand resting on Adora’s arm tightened with considerable strength as Adora made to lie back down._

_“Oh no, no, no, I don’t think so, missy”_

_“Glimmer-” Too much too soon, and knowing Glimmer it’d be question after well-meaning question, oh shit-_

_“It’s not my intention to make you uncomfortable Adora.” Glimmer cut into the silence and Adora shuddered ( **crack slash rip)**. Glimmer relaxed her grip as her gaze met Adora’s, eyes still glimmering despite the shadows, just like everything else about her. _

_“I’m betting you’ve had enough of struggle for a lifetime. I won’t force you to go into details. That can be hard and tiring and pretty confusing most days._

_“I just really hope you know that I’m your friend.” Adora swallowed at that, because yes, Glimmer was worthier of that word then she could ever hope to be._

_“I’m here for the messy talk. The Horde raised you as a soldier? I want to help you grow into a happy person.”_

_Why was her throat constricting? Had her dinner been poisoned? Maybe the Horde had-_

_“I’M YOUR FRIEND TOO ADORAAAA” A body lunged at Adora, and both Princesses felt themselves topple backwards as Bow wrapped them in a tearful embrace._

**_“BOW, HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN LISTENING!?!”_ ** _Glimmer swatted at Bow, and Adora felt anxieties ease just a little as her friends wrestled on the carpeted floor._

The conversation had been dropped through distraction and silence, tactics of war. It was always tactics, tactics, **tactics** , winning her way through her days and being engulfed by the enormity of the night, where magic words and swords held no influence.

The Horde never gave up, never stopped coming, no matter how many soldiers she dispatched (injured, crippled, bruised, drowned, **killed** ), no matter how many machines she tore apart, tearing and slashing her way forwards, they were always there. Time and time again she let herself believe **_she_** would be there on the other side of the next door, the next wave of infantry, the next mile of forest, waiting. It was an endless game of cat and mouse (Catra might have snarled playfully at that, revealed a fanged grin as she tossed herself at Adora). Every time she thought she got close enough, every time it seemed the beast had been calmed, it pounced at her again, and Adora would scurry back home to hide.

And then there was She-Ra. A convenient disguise she could slip on at any given moment, a suit of unstoppable strength and brute force. Adora liked that idea-it was simplistic. Scream about honour (was she a hypocrite for fighting in honours name?) then wave a sword about until people were safe. She-Ra was Bright moon’s glowing hero, the poster woman for the rebellion, Adora yet…not Adora.

She-Ra had thoughts and feelings of her own, gentle urges that, when Adora strained, pricked upon the surface of her consciousness. She-Ra was experience brought to life by centuries of warriors, pain and turmoil amalgamated into a being, generations of warriors who had gripped the same blade that Adora did now and fought until they no longer could. Their thoughts pinched Adora’s skin, plucked at her aching mind wherever she went, a fleeting flicker of light across the sword the only hint of their communications.

The sword jittered and sparked when Catra was near, and it had nothing to do with Adora’s trembling hands. _Way to be subtle._

Subtle was something Catra had never been. Or perhaps, as Adora would later reflect, subtle was something Catra was _actually excellent_ at, brilliant at disguising her fear and abuse, allowing Adora to only see the parts of herself that she wished to reveal.

Still, actions screamed their agony where words would only whisper it. Two sets of four, red slashes made scars where Catra’s claws had met her back and pierced the skin there. Perhaps every line represented the months she’d been gone, the universes usual way of twisting every single event in its ironic grasp.

_Adora woke up, panting as fiery breaths clawed their way into a howl that echoed within her room. Bow and Glimmer had long since gone back to their own rooms, and Adora had assured them that yes, she was “fine”._

_The scars seared like the image of Catra in her mind. Catra the best-friend, the comrade in training, Catra the enemy, Catra- grabbing hold of her, Catra- letting her go._

_“Nothing bad can really happen as long as we have each other”_

_Naïve idiocy._

_“I never **wanted** to leave you”_

_Why did the truth mean so little when it mattered the most?_

_“I didn’t **want** you to come back, Adora”_

_…_

_Adora slammed her back against a bedroom wall, allowing the coolness to seep in, hot sweat turning cold and causing shivers that trembled throughout her sobbing frame._

_It hadn’t mattered what they’d **wanted** in the end. If things had been even slightly different, If Catra had gone with her that night, if Catra hadn’t been in such pain and if Adora had noticed, would they have been allowed to be happy? _

**_“You reap what you sow.”_ **

There was never a crueller lie. You could make choices, choose a vague path to walk down, sure, but even then, you lacked control. The very ground beneath you swayed you from your destination, howling winds and raging storms causing you to lose sight of your goal. The Horde had offered an easier path, terrible and vicious as it was. You trained, ranked up, trained, ranked up, fought, died. Life had seemed clear cut within classroom chalk boards and textbooks. You lived, then you died, and that was it.

Escaping from the Horde was like being given the ability to see for the first time. It offered Adora everything she’d never known, and that was the best and worst thing about it. Not everything was beautiful. It was the actions between birth and death that mattered, the trembling red path you created in the world, scars on your back from your ~~friend? enemy? love?~~ a sweep of a sword that protected many at the cost of a few, the grin of your friends as you teased them over morning tea, and the setting sun on another day lived within.

You could sow as many seeds as you liked, but there was no guarantee that what you planted, cherished, and cared for would grow into what you wanted.


	2. Don’t fight fire with fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catra hated Adora as she trained, hated Adora as she fought, hated Adora as she ate and drank and slept and suddenly it was three AM and Catra was reaching out for the familiar warmth of someone long gone.

Life hadn’t always burnt like this.

_When Catra had been little, still too small to hold a gun in her grip or reach the top bunk, she’d been hurt in training. A detonator snuck in by Lonnie had earned the culprit three months latrine duty, and Catra a burn that turned much of her mane to ash as well as a scar that remained for years after._

_At the time, impulse had her lunging at Lonnie, howling in pain and betrayal as she swung towards her opponent. Only a voice she feared more than flames stopped her._

**_“Don’t fight fire with fire, Catra.”_ **

Long after the wound had healed, and her mane had regrown, Shadow Weavers words stayed with her in their searing lashes. The memory was painful, but then _wasn’t pain on the behalf of the Horde honourable?_

Adora hadn’t seemed to think so, but then, that was Adora all over, obsessed with playing the “Hero”.

Adora had held her head in gentle hands, replaced the bandages so Catra wouldn’t have to, and gripped her hand through the worst of the pain, biting her lip as Catra’s claws sunk into her young, soft palms.

Fucking bitch.

There was no Adora now. Not even an indent in their bunk, not even a trace of her scent or a strand of her hair. And yet, not too long ago, they’d shared everything. _Everything_.

If Catra was a fire, so was Adora. They kindled each other to a blaze, grew in strength side by side, and yet… Fire could warm a room or tear it apart, and Catra knew which path she’d taken. It would be **so easy**. Catra could leave right now if she wanted, take a skiff, venture past the enchanted forest, and steal her way into Bright Moon. If she _wanted._

And, oh Etheria, did she want to. It was **so easy** to fall back into Adora’s arms, nestle herself there in the crook of her neck and never leave.

But, well, Catra had little control over when people chose to leave, let alone herself. There it was, the cloud of doubt, the knowledge that Adora had given her every chance, extended every hand, caught her every time she fell ( **A warm hand at her waist as warm breaths skimmed her cheeks, blond hair tickling her nose** ). And yet… it wasn’t like Catra hadn’t asked either! Adora had been given _every chance_ to return too! **She** could have come, but _clearly_ magical swords and light shows mattered more than ~~friends girlfri-~~ _friends._

So yeah, maybe Catra had wanted to hurt her, to show Adora how it felt to be forgotten, pushed away, dropped, scarred. Because all those years shielding Adora? Protecting her blindsides, telling the other kids to piss off when they said dumb shit about her, and bearing the brunt of Shadow Weaver in her place? Surely that had meant _something._

“I **never** wanted to leave _you_ ”

Fuck, Catra hated Adora.

Catra hated Adora as she trained, hated Adora as she fought, hated Adora as she ate and drank and slept and suddenly it was three AM and Catra was reaching out for the familiar warmth of someone long gone.

Yeah, fuck Adora. And fuck anyone who read into that thought too much.

How was Adora still alive, huh? Nobody _should_ survive what she had. But then, _of course_ , Adora had her new, better security blanket to use and throw away when she was finished with it.

**She-Ra.**

She-Ra, an eight-foot monster who slammed Catra against a mountain side. She-Ra who’d chased her, who’s pleading eyes reflected Adora’s own wishes and who’s hands had swung out to save Catra from falling, a pendulum between life and death and the grey areas in between where the pain of going on was so vivid you wanted to stop.

Fire sought fire, flames merged, and no matter how much she tried, Catra was always five steps behind, reaching out for more of what hurt her, because if you couldn’t fight fire with fire, it was just easier for it to take you.

_Catra had wanted it to end when the battle was done. Adora had been swept away in a wave of light too bright and too loving for her to bear, and she’d not even looked back. Still, something had driven her to drag herself to her feet, palms and wobbling knees skinned and bloody._

_Scorpia had **insisted** that as team medic, Catra was to be examined. Obvious wounds were salved, and Catra felt her palms grow clammy as she kept a sharp eye for intruders of her own kind. Displays of weakness were, after all, usually discouraged._

_“Aww, don’t look so gloomy Kitty, it’s not all bad!” Catra scowled, hissing as Scorpia gently dabbed antiseptic upon raging **(fiery curling forks of fire** ) wounds that littered ( **so many had died at the hands on the rebels, so many bodies** ) her shoulders._

_Scorpia nodded in appreciation._

_“Not bad, not bad at all.” Catra unwound herself from her perch._

_“Finall- “_

_“Oh!” An excited cry interrupted Catra, causing her to groan impatiently as Scorpia grasped her shoulders, firmly planting her back into her seat._

_“Head injuries!” Tapping her own skull with a gleaming claw, Scorpia held the struggling Catra before examining her scalp._

_“Scorpia, **I. Am. FINE.** ”_

_“Never hurts to be thorough! Count to ten for me Kitty, and- oooh, scars?”_

_A pincer, surprisingly delicate in its actions, prodded the long-carried wound, a purplish scar that jaggedly ran from the very top of Catra’s forehead, worming its way up and around in a shell to reach her ear._

_“It was a long time ago, Scorpia”_

_( **High pitched voices whistling through gapped tooth mouths, whispered in the recesses of the night, scared and excited**_ **“It’s awesome, I promise! A battle wound, a _real-life battle wound, that’s so cool Catra!”, a cool hand touching her feverish one, dawn breaking with her tears._** _)_

_“…A long time ago.”_

_Scorpia sighed. “Hmm, no wonder. These stitches are nowhere near my standard. If only I’d gotten my pincers on you sooner, I could ‘a prevented this **messy job**.”_

**_ No, absolutely not. _ **

_“ **It’s not a messy job**” Catra closed her eyes, ignoring the prickle of tears, trying to wrestle out Scorpia’s grasp and out of memories grasp too as the echo of her sharp words reverberated, turning to shudders that trickled like icy pangs down her back._

_“…It’s not a messy job. It was-” A deep breath to stop the tremor in her voice, to let it escape through her nostrils in smoking tendrils._

_“-It was worth it.”_

Catra could remember the prick of the needle and thread, the tremor in Adora’s hands as she pierced Catra’s skin. It felt like that now, strenuous effort to gain a result, to admit that without Adora, without that thread to hold her together, Catra was falling apart.

_“D…don’t you dare poke my brain out, dummy.”_

Maybe it _had_ been a messy job, but it had been _their_ job. And now? After everything they’d been through, all they shared were memories and scars.

So maybe Catra **had** gone too far, so maybe **she had** forgotten herself, so maybe (definitely) **she did** want what they’d had back. So what? Adora had hurt her, and she was getting her due **_(too much, it was too much but how could Catra admit that now, how could she ever find her way back to Adora, how?_** _)_

Eight lines. One for each month Adora had left ~~escaped, saved herself, found something better than Catra could ever hope to be.~~ Eight lines to carry as a burden on her back like Catra carried her.

_“Nothing bad can really happen_

**_Liar_ **

_“-as long as we have each other”_

**_Nice job, Adora._ **

Shadow Weaver may have been onto something. Preparing her for the real world and all that. There was only betrayal and pain beyond the Fright Zones borders. Just as much within them to be perfectly honest, Catra would sourly note, but at least _a base could never leave you_. And to rub it in? The idiot had the audacity to keep her uniform. What was she playing at, little Miss Ambassador, coming to unite the feuding factions and bring _peace_ and _rainbows_ and the _power of fucking friendship_ to Etheria? Adora was a bloody arrogant pig, a bullshitter who found Bright Moon _easy_. Well, good luck to her, because _nobody_ could be trusted, and if Adora hadn’t learnt that, then the Horde really never had been her home.

_“I’m going to be_ _FORCE COMMANDER one day! You can be one too, and we can lead the soldiers with…. with…ummm” They were nine and they were going to conquer the world, regardless of their reality._

_“ **REALLY BIG GUNS!** ” Catra’s eyes gleamed and Adora grinned._

_“YEAH! **REALLY BIIIGGG GUNS!** ”_

When Lord Hordak had made her Force Captain, Catra felt the last dregs of Adora wash away from her shore for good. Catra smirked at her rank, flaunted it smugly with a cocky swagger as she made her way to her new barracks.

She’d lain on the bed, closed her eyes, and howled.

Adora had washed away, and all that was left was a rocky beach with no sea in sight. Just a dry barren desert scorched with fire and left to crumble.

Together they burned and apart they ached, acidic liquid that toiled through days without release as the pressure drove Catra insane. She wanted to grab her skull, grab the _stupid_ stitches, and press it together so hard that it crushed between her palms, and all that was good and all that was Adora was truly gone, because **memories outlived everything**.

And in Catra’s mind, so did Adora.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I came here for you.”
> 
> Fireworks spattered across her cheek when Catra slapped her, and Adora sprawled onto her backside, cradling her reddened skin.
> 
> “You did, huh?” Catra let loose a kick, and Adora flew backwards, winded and gasping fragmented lashes of apologies and regrets.
> 
> “Well I didn’t.”

Adora knew what flying was. Whenever Swift Wind wasn’t “saving” fellow horses, he would spare an hour or so for Adora. Together, they’d silently traverse the break between blue skies and alabaster clouds. The feeling of going up, up, up was thrilling; the rush of wind that tangled her hair and cooled her skin woke Adora from the bittersweet stupors that seized her days. As Swift Wind and herself rose, Adora’s stomach would flip, like a fire work flickering up in her belly, or a spark of lightening that crackled up her throat, turning into a raucous giggle that filled the pocket of her and Swift Wind and _nothing else_.

Inevitably, the time to land would always come, and Adora would be grounded. The elation would dissipate, her heart rate would settle, and life would resume. It wasn’t feasible to fly forever; to live from high to high would be an ignorant attempt at refusing the laws that governed Etheria.

_…to live from high to high would be an ignorant attempt at refusing the laws that governed Etheria…_

Ah. That tangible irony was back, a looming presence Adora understood too well. Adora knew it wasn’t feasible, Adora knew it was impossible, Adora knew it would hurt to wish for it, and yet to be without it, without **_her_**?

It was unthinkable.

Adora looked for Catra even when she didn’t, and whenever she saw a tuft of dark hair? Claws? Gleaming eyes? Fanged smiles?

Adora felt fireworks rise.

Adora lived and fought for those flashes, those whiplash moments of hope shortly followed by grief, and she hated it. Hated _herself_. It had seemed so normal in the Horde, just the two of them, a bubble of their own flying in makeshift skies, trembling barriers liable to fall at the first intruder’s presence. And then, right before they’d broken, Catra had asked her something, a question posed with fear.

_“It wasn’t all that bad growing up in the Horde, right?”_

Adora hadn’t known, or perhaps she had, and the answer had simply hurt too much. They’d clung to one another like kites in a gale, and in the end, it had been Adora who let go of the rope. And Adora hated the memory, hated the loss of Catra, hated how easily it had happened, and yet, she was _glad!_ She’d been _so tired!_ Adora had gripped onto Catra because she loved Catra, and she would always love Catra, but love shouldn’t have made her so exhausted! Love shouldn’t have had to be hidden beneath bed sheets at midnight, or snuck in cabinets during breaks. Love shouldn’t have been a lifeline slung back and forth in a gale, and while Adora wanted it back, she didn’t want it back the way she’d had it. It was selfish, but Adora had her limits. It was giving up, but Adora couldn’t give in to her desires.

Adora wanted to carry Catra up with her, wanted Catra to feel the freedom, feel the fireworks in her belly and the wind in her hair. Adora wanted Catra to see love for _what it should be_ , not a secret hidden but a soft, strong, safe force.

If Adora was flying, Catra had been the kite that had fluttered away and fallen back to Etheria.

Light Hope had been wrong. Adora didn’t need to “ _Let go_ ”. Adora needed to grasp back what had fluttered from her fingers, pull it back in to her heart, shield it with her arms whatever the cost, because Adora couldn’t live from spike to spike, gut wrenching peaks of exhilarating flight bursting through her veins every time she caught a glimpse of the one person that meant _everything_.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When it finally happened, it took everything Adora had to keep her distance, because she could not go back to that place, but **shit,** she wanted Catra to cross the line.

Catra and Adora watched each other from across the battlefield.

Catra seemed older, less playfully sprung and more warily stiff. She was bleeding too, Adora noticed ( _with a pang of regret, horror, sorrow_ ), but then, who wasn’t? This _was_ a war.

Their blades met with an exulting ring of agony, and Adora wanted to be sick, because these fireworks were wrong, more fire than beauty, rising heat that scalded her insides and reminded her of what she didn’t have.

Dust rose beneath their feet as they dodged and twirled in the sun, clockwork dancers who’d set aside grace for something less beautiful and more damaging.

“Catra!” Adora was on the defensive, and not because she was struggling. “Catra!”

Catra continued to ignore her calls, preferring to swing her baton, snarling as a missed swipe sent her sprawling. Adora took the initiative, grappling her Catra into the mud-

There was terror in Catra’s eyes, terror that felt like falling for years and years and never finding stable ground.

She-Ra let go, and Adora held Catra tight.

“I don’t need you to go fucking easy on me you **piece of shit**.” Catra spat the insult, desperately tossing and turning in Adora’s grip, and Adora grimaced because there was no right way to do this.

“Shut up, Catra, and _actually listen_ to me! Please, it’s just me! No She-Ra, no Rebellion and no Horde. It’s **me**.” Of course, this was a lie and they both knew it; sides and schisms had been their undoing.

“I don’t know if you noticed, **Princess** ” Catra brandished the noun and Adora flinched (instinct? upbringing? Guilt and hatred that she would never shed thanks to the Horde?) “We’re kind of in the middle of a battle~”

The riptide of bullets and arrows, the howling of war cries, the crunch of land beneath boots…yes, it had registered to Adora, but she had to do this, and Adora would not risk losing the only chance she may have gotten.

“Fuck the battle, Catra.” Adora let her eyes travel to Catra’s, and her fingertips grazed the rope once more as she let Catra sit up.

“I came here for _you_.”

Fireworks spattered across her cheek when Catra slapped her, and Adora sprawled onto her backside, cradling her reddened skin.

“ **You did, huh?** ” Catra let loose a kick, and Adora flew backwards, winded and gasping fragmented lashes of apologies and regrets.

“Well I _didn’t_.”

Catra walked away, and Adora felt her flutter from her hands for good.

Then it struck her, worse than any firework punching through her skies, and Adora’s torso collapsed into the mud as darkness shrouded her skies.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Catra was there to meet Adora on the ground, barely catching her in trembling arms.

It was a Horde Bullet, viciously barbed and blossoming with red petals that bloomed across Adora’s abdomen.

This was…This _was_ good. This _was_ right. This _was_ justice. This _was_ the Horde’s wish. This was…

Oh fuck

This was _Adora._

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Adora couldn’t open her eyes. They were too stiff, too heavy. She could hear though, she could feel the rattle of machinery passing her and the tremble of the ground.

She could feel the warmth of a figure clutching her, she could hear the shriek of their voice. Was it Glimmer? Bow?

“ ** _WHO THE FUCK SHOT HER? ANSWER ME, BASTARDS.”_**

If Adora could have, she would have cried.

Catra had come back.

It took everything Adora had left to raise an arm, to let a hand rest upon Catra’s.

It was cliché, like one of Bow’s fairy tales. It was soft and stupid, but it was the truest thing Adora could think to do before she was unable to do anything ever again.

“I…” Adora coughed, felt a sliver of blood on her lips and the drip of something cold and salty follow it as a rough hand cradled her cheek, already sorry for the pain it had inflicted.

“l…love…”

Adora fell for the final time.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Catra hadn’t thought it was possible to fall any further than she already had. Surely, you could only tumble _so far_? Surely, it wasn’t possible to sink like this?

And yet…

When Adora had fallen into her arms, Catra had felt herself tumble, felt herself spin away from herself, unwinding like thread from a bobbin and leaving only tangled string in her wake. For fucks sake, just a moment ago Catra had wanted Adora to disappear, to cease in her existence so that the memories of her **stopped.**

**_“I know you can do it, Shadow Weaver!” Catra grasped the Sorceress’ lapel, flecks of spit sailing upon her mask. “I know you can take memories away, now just do it!”_ **

Fuck, she’d tried everything to get rid of Adora, right down to asking that bastard for help. Shadow Weaver had refused; at the time she’d told Catra she was busy, but after seeing her weakened state, broken and dishevelled within the Horde’s imprisonment camp? Catra had a fair idea of the true reason she’d been denied.

Catra wished she didn’t have to remember Adora right now. Red blood stemmed from her, no matter how much she tried to staunch the wound, and Adora’s skin had turned pasty and pale. Choking back a sharp sob, Catra began dragging Adora’s weight as the rumble of a tank forewarned its threat. There was shelter about twenty paces left, a tilted stone wall and a leafy bush that was at the very least away from the fucking Horde.

The _“fucking Horde”_ , huh? Of course. Of bloody course.

Catra panted with the effort of Adora’s body, cursing in frustration as thick roots and slick mud slowed her journey.

She’d tried to forget. She’d tried to turn around. _Tried_ was the key word. Always had been with Adora. _Trying_ to catch up. _Trying_ to hold on. _Trying_ to let go.

_Trying_ not to break, trying to do this, _trying_ to help her because, oh fuck, the panic swirling in her gut right now burnt, made Catra want to gag.

Yanking Adora with a final gasp into cover, Catra fell to her bloody knees. Her heartbeat thumped in her ears, through her body and all the way down her fingertips. Catra took deep breaths, slowing her racing heart. Lowering a hand to Adora’s neck, Catra shakily felt for a pulse.

**_White clouds billowing from their lips in winter coated courtyards, running from end to end, red and sweat slicked, but Adora was still grinning, smiling even when Shadow Weaver made her “do it again”, even when Shadow Weaver pushed her till her muscles quivered still in bed that night as Catra encircled her with her arms._ **

It was one thing to state that she’d grown up in the Horde. It was another to fully convey the meaning behind the words. Day after day after day, hours and minutes and tasks that filled in the slots and pain that distracted her, and long, long nights spent listening to the beat of Adora’s heartbeat.

It hadn’t been right, not the way she and Adora had only had each other, and not the way she’d been left, but Catra couldn’t…she couldn’t…

…she couldn’t feel her heartbeat.

xxxxxxxxx

A few soldiers noticed the red bundle that was Catra and Adora, the tear-stricken Captain clutching onto dirtied lapels, choking on her grief.

None other than Catra herself felt the quiver in the air, the gentle tug of a hand, and another, and another, blue eyes and blonde hair and tall warriors with the weight of the world on their shoulders and all the love of a life time in their hearts.

Catra looked up, fiercely grasping Adora, scanning her surroundings. Nobody was there, and yet…

A sword, _her sword_ , glowing and pulsating, its blade almost arching like a spine desperate to raise itself from the ground, maybe fifty paces away and the only thing in Catra’s sight.

Catra was used to being left behind, being left in the corner, being forgotten, being lost. Yet now, strong hands she couldn’t see grasped at her, pulling her to her feet, dragging her towards the sword. Bullets and arrows bounced away from Catra as her legs began pumping up and down, her speed increasing with every step. Everything was wrong, everything went bad, but the fireworks that travelled up her feet as she sprinted, puckered and reverberating through her skull, crackling through her mind? Something, no, someone else was here, perhaps many. And there was hope, obscure and broken as it was. Adora was always her destination, no matter how far their paths diverged. Fuck, Catra was still mad and hurt but it could wait because whatever this was? Whatever magical Princess shit was helping her grab the sword, whoever was yanking her back to Adora, back to her side, forcing her to raise the blade above Adora’s chest and thrust it there?

Some things were worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to all of you for reading and reviewing (: Its seems like there will be more for this story than I anticipated!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The confidence she’d felt mere moments ago had dissipated, leaving her trembling and exhausted, guarded in this strange prison. Everything had been like this for a while, moments of uncontrollable rage, domineering lust for power bookended only with hollow nights staring at the ceiling.
> 
> Still, Catra had her sass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm terribly sorry for taking so long, thank you to anyone who's stuck around. It took me a long time to put this chapter together, and I do hope it delivers. 
> 
> On another note..."Familiar" from Steven Universe...need I say more?

Pulling, dragging, tugging, piece by piece like a puzzle of flesh and bone.

The abyss swallowed Catra, inhaling her with gasped cries of agony. Opening her eyes, Catra could only look on in horror as she was pulled and twisted through the,

the

the…

…There were _so many._

Rows and rows of She-ra’s skimmed past her, all wailing in pain as they pleaded for respite. Bloodied wounds, purplish poisons…They were all-

**“Nearly dead, Force Captain Catra of the Horde. Your hypothesis is correct.”**

Catra cried out as she was lurched forward, her palms finally finding purchase on nothingness. Before her stood a flickering figure, tinged purplish blue, more phantom than person. They leaned down, grasping Catra by the shoulders with fizzing palms, and Catra allowed herself to be pulled to her feet, too shaken to fight.

**“Welcome to the bridge, Force Captain Catra. It is a great pleasure to at last make your acquaintance. You have approximately 120 seconds to make your decision.”**

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

** -300 seconds earlier- **

“There’s no way, Glimmer.”

Bow ducked beneath a soldier’s swipe, swiping their weapon aside before landing a sturdy kick to their torso. Glimmer merely smirked in reply as she twisted another soldiers arm behind them, a fierce crunch making them both wince.

“Shit!” Glimmer stepped over her crying opponent, landing a flurry of sparkles on another preparing an assault on Bow’s blindside. “Sorry dude, I’ll fix that later…” Another punch and she was back by Bow’s side. “And yes, Bow, for your information, I _totally_ **HAVE** taken on fifty Horde soldiers and won.”

“Pffft.” Bow tangled the torso of an unlucky soldier in his bow string, flinging them away into the mud. “I’ll believe that when I see it. Besides-” The pair turned in unison, back to back, panting tiredly as they spied for the next approaching group of combatants. “-I bet Adora has both of us combined put to shame.”

Glimmer laughed, relaxing her stance as she bent to inspect the injured soldiers before reaching into her belt and retrieving a flare.

“You make a fair point, my dear compatriot. Now, if you would be so kind~” Glimmer waved the device and Bow grinned in excitement, retrieving his namesake.

“Cloud flares!!! Ingenious if I say so myself. Normal to the average eye- “

Glimmer groaned, raking a hand down her face. “-But bright pink to any rebel wearing a contact, _I know Bow. I’m literally a Rebel standing r I g h t n e x t to you.”_

“Sorry, sorry!” Bow chuckled sheepishly, notching an arrow as Glimmer shook her head before stepping away.

“ **Showtime**.”

Glimmer leapt up, teleporting as her toes left the ground. In a flash of sparks, she was gone, and in another she reappeared some twenty meters above the ground. Bow released the arrow, and Glimmer-

Oh _fuck_

_Glimmer was in the way?_

“GLIMMER TELEP- “

Mid-cry, Glimmer teleported back to Bow’s side as the arrow struck the flare, causing it to explode in a grey cloud that vortexed higher and higher until it sat with its counterparts’ miles above the ground. Bow sighed in relief, grasping Glimmer tightly before scowling

“What was **_that?! We missed Teatime Tuesday to perfect the timing for this, Glimmer! TEATIME TUESDAY!!_** I nearly shot you! What would I say when I got home? “Hey Dad, hey Pops, guess what, I just **_impaled Glimmer,_** no biggee though, she says she just fancied hanging around in the sky for undetermined periods of time-””

“Bow, **SHUT UP**.”

Glimmer’s voice cracked as she grabbed his arm, and Bow swallowed down the bile that rose up in his throat as he felt himself being teleported. Blinking away the dryness from his eyes, Bow reached for Glimmer.

“I’m sorry I was being so harsh Glimmer, but we have to get this right, otherwi-“

“ **Bow.** ”

Glimmer was trembling beneath Bow’s grasp, and as Bow took in his new surroundings, he felt his legs begin to waver beneath him. There was a wall, perhaps from the ancient’s time. Adora was there, tattered white fabric stained sharp with red, and a figure bent over her, as still and unwavering as the blade they held that jaggedly impaled Adora’s chest.

Bow heard a croak escape his lips as his entire body twitched, and Glimmer ventured unsteadily, her steps deliberate and bold.

“I…I saw you…from _the sky_ ….”

Bow could only watch as Glimmer made her way forwards, frozen in despair, his eyes already seared with Adora’s blood. Glimmers words seemed worlds away (“ _YOU BITCH, YOU, NO, PLEASE,-_ “), as dreamlike and foggy as the cloud they had created together, yet now there was no escape for it, no swirling vortex, but a storm that seized Bow in its eye. Glimmer was snarling, visible from the corner of her face, and the twitch in her lips, a hysterical, unthinkable horror etching its way into her actions as she made her way to the Horde soldier sprawled upon Adora.

Step after step after step. Each step seemed to take an eternity, far longer than they should have, lethargic despite Glimmer’s sprint-

_wait…_

Bow tilted his head to one side, narrowing his eyes as he felt for his pulse.

 **Bam** …one…two…three…four…five…six…

**…bam**

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**“I’ve taken the liberty of increasing Etheria’s Inertia for approximately twenty seconds. This temporary imbalance should allow us adequate time. Will you, Force Captain Catra, intertwine your life-force with She-Ra’s, allowing for Adora’s continued existence on this planet?”**

Catra backed away, desperately trying to claw a path away from Light Hope. Every scrape of her nails proved only to reveal a twisting realm of neon sparks and endless blue. The confidence she’d felt mere moments ago had dissipated, leaving her trembling and exhausted, guarded in this strange prison. Everything had been like this for a while, moments of uncontrollable rage, domineering lust for power bookended only with hollow nights staring at the ceiling.

Still, Catra had her sass.

“The fuck has this got to do with Adora? She’ll be fine, she’s survived worse.” _Was that the truth, or wishful thinking?_

**“Incorrect, Adora has not sustained a more life threating injury than her current wound before this date. Your decision will be imperative in her survival.”** _Wishful thinking it was, then._

Catra felt a cold shiver glance up her spine as she looked up to scowl at Light Hope, crossing her arms and wrapping her tail around her legs.

“What the hell do you know, fucking creep? Just _let me out_.” ( _Enough with cages, enough with the unknown, enough with falling forever, launching feet first off of a cliff with no destination, gazing into the face of the planet she’d orbited around for so fucking long until she came crashing down.)_

Light Hope hovered forward, resting a static hand on Catra’s shoulder. Catra felt the hair on her arms tingle, and she shrugged off the hand with a huff as Light Hope continued.

**“I have watched both Adora and yourself for many years from my confinement, Force Captain Catra. I have watched you grow together, then apart.”**

Catra scoffed, looking away. “ _Really_ , is that so? Would have been fucking nice to know I had a shitty Fairy God-Mother out there. _Light Hoe,_ was it?”

There was a giggle to Catra’s left, and Catra jumped back, hissing defensively as her claws unsheathed. Light Hope continued to talk, either not noticing or simply unfazed.

“ **Force Captain Catra, I implore you to _remember_. It was _you_ , and only _you_ who held the sword and utilised its power without the aid of the She-Ra. Allow yourself to bridge the divide between Adora and yourself, heal one another with your souls-”**

Catra’s legs quivered as the echoes of words compounded day after day grasped at her once more.

“I don’t _need_ Adora to heal. I don’t need to heal at all.” Catra turned, began walking shakily away-

( _Empty days, empty nights, blonde hair, red jackets with those shitty slashes, holding her biceps in the dark as they stumbled half drunk around camp, cold lips to her ear, on her lips, on her neck-)_

“I’ve done enough for her,” ( _Fuck, Catra wanted her back, why did she have to make this so damn hard, why did she come all this way just to do nothing, why was she so scared?)_ “-you can’t guilt me into helping Adora out of her shitty Princess crisis. Go fetch Dimmer, or that _idiot_ Mow, I don’t give a-”

Catra ploughed face first into _something_. Something strong, something warm, something smiling slightly crookedly, arms crossed, hip cocked. Something that smelled of sweat and mud and blood, some _one_ who made her feel whole.

Catra had never been taught to love. She’d fought to hear the word itself, a phrase glimpsed from gaps beneath officers’ doors after lights out, but the feeling? The ridiculous highs of gaiety, the fear and panic she’d misspoken or fucked it all up, the impatience to be there again, the terror she wasn’t enough? It all hurt, but it had kept her together through it all. She’d known what it was to live not just for the sake of time passing.

The funny thing was, when you lived for more than the passage of a day complete, you yearned for time in another way.

Time with _her_.

“Catra, it’s _Glimmer_ and _Bow_ and you know it.” A lock of blonde hair fell from that Etherian-saken hairstyle she spent so bloody long on, and Catra’s breath caught in her throat, whispy and sharp all at once.

“Quit being so Catty, dimwit. I think, maybe, just maybe-” Catra was caught, entangled then literally tangled as her fingers found the yellow strands and tucked them away.

“-I think maybe you **_do_** want to be here.”

_Starry nights and shared bottles and blankets and bad haircuts and swapping socks in the morning dark-_

**“I do.”**


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adora exhaled, gazing upwards at the smudgy dark sky.
> 
> “When we graduate…all we’re going to do is fight. And fighting’s fine, but they’ll be no classes or homework or teachers to fill the time. Every single day we’ll do the same thing, and we might never accomplish any real goal. I just…I’m…”
> 
> Catra frowned, reaching out to twine her fingers with Adora’s. Her hands were hot and clammy, and Catra squeezed them gently.
> 
> “Guess you’ll have to make do with me. And if you’re still not happy? -” Catra shrugged, eyes glinting as she glanced away.
> 
> “I suppose we’ll have to run away.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Many, many, many thanks to all the lovely people who have reviewed this story, thrown a kudos my way, or even just read along :D This is the penultimate chapter: I do hope you enjoy.
> 
> (Bonus points to anyone who spots the lyrical line. I've been listening to that song a lot recently. If anyone spots it, gimme the heads up, I'll be super impressed. Maybe they'll be a prize?..)

Running into the empty

_One two three_

Running into the empty

_One two three_

Running into the empty

_One two three_

Running into the empty

_One two three_

**Running into the empty**

_One two three_

**RUNNING INTO THE EMPTY**

**She was running. The lights above her strobed as she passed by,**

**WHUMF**

**WHUMF**

**WHUMF**

**Like summer once more, rounders in the scrap yard, racing round the junk made bases. Running for a rounder took practice, learning to curve your body around the base and not knock it. Overshooting it cost precious seconds, seconds that could make your team lose, Lonnie hates losing, Catra will fight Lonnie if Lonnie fights you, gotta get a rounder, skid round the base, knock into Kyle, shit, slam the final base and you’re home at fourth. You’ve hit the ball so hard your bat has a dent, Catra’s laughing at your slack jaw as you dump yourself in the dust, watching the game, sweaty skin mixing with the oily air.**

**You’re up again, running into the empty. The one thing no one ever mentions about rounders are the corners. Running in a straight line easy, but changing course? Heading to a new direction? Swerving with abandon? Turning the corner feels like forever, as if the world slows, or perhaps you slow, and there’s nothing you can do but pray you make it to the next base in time-**

**in time**

**_in time_ **

**_one two three_ **

**_one two three_ **

**_one two three_ **

**Of course, you’d never admit it to anyone besides Catra, but you _love_ the waltz. It’s steady and reliable, but still faintly charming. You pass off your rigorous waltzing for your usual dedication to training, and Catra grins wickedly at you from the shadows.**

**You’re still running in the nothingness, the place in between, the corner of a base where you feel your body, stunted and stilted, unsure of how to move yet still moving.**

**_Adora’s running into the empty_ **

**_Adora’s running out of time_ **

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Adora fell through the nothing and lay there panting. Thick, heavy seconds passed. A dull ache throbbed in her chest, and it pulsed every second, a thumping clock, a recognition of time.

Pulling herself to her feet, Adora walked, limping at first, then quickly adjusting to a gait easy and free from…

…what had she just been doing?

She’d been…dancing? With Catra? Yeah, that was right. Dancing with Catra on the roof in the glow of the argon lamp they’d snuck up, and Catra had been teasing her because _soldiers didn’t dance…_

…soldiers? Why would Angela send her to dance?

**_“One two three, one two three, one two three.”_ **

Someone had whispered that in her ear a long time ago as they danced, _Catra_ had, a long, long time ago…

**_Oh._ **

Waking up from a dream, thick and tar like and indistinguishable from reality hurt. It was slow, like running around a base, yet as sure to come as the third beat of a waltz.

**_Glimmer_ ** _and **Bow** and **Angela** and **Bright Moon** and **She-ra.**_

**_The sword…the sword in Catra’s grasp, given to her, snatched back-_ **

**_\- shattered within her?_ **

**_One two three_ **

Adora lifted her gaze from the ground, forced herself to stare through the fuzziness shrouding the corners of her vision, staggering backwards in horror, gasping for air as she saw herself, no, her selves, her past ones.

Dying dying dying-

**“Do not be alarmed, Adora. One day, you shall join their ranks.”**

Adora scowled, anger bubbling in her throat. (She’d _always_ been in ranks of some sort, and when even flying lacked freedom, life hardly seemed worth its effort.)

“Light Hope.”

The First One gazed down upon Adora.

**“If you wish to continue your lifespan as She-Ra, you must act now. Continue forwards- you will find her.”**

Light Hope was gone as quick as they came, and Adora sucked in a seething breath, wincing as her chest pricked.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The path was wavering; it glitched like one of Entrapta’s screens ( **DEAD DEAD DEAD** ), and Adora felt goose bumps prickle her arms no matter how fast she walked.

The first came with a shudder. The ceiling dripped away to sky, the ground turned to tarmac, and Adora felt herself change, her mind sliding into place within _hers,_ to another time, to someplace else-

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

“Catra?”

“Hmmmm?”

Adora rolled over, sloppily slinging a heavy ( _damn hot muscle-bound biceps fuck_ -) arm over Catra. It had turned dark a short while ago, orange smudges swirling into deep blues, and the roof was cloaked in a shadowy haze, dry and still.

“Do you ever think, we’re like, I dunno…” Adora blew a strand of hair away from her eyes, and Catra patiently traced circles on Adora’s back, happy to wait and soak in her warmth away from prying eyes.

“Do you ever wonder if… maybe we we’re meant for a job that there’s no, you know, no rank for?”

“Pfff.”

Catra snorted, nuzzling her forehead into the crook of Adora’s neck. “Don’t be dumb, Adora. Only _Princesses_ think like that.” She raised a finger, flicking the blond on the cheek. “Are **you** a Princess?”

Adora startled, scowling as she retracted her arms from Catra in favour of crossing them.

“I **_am not_** , and you know it!”

“Okay, **okay**!” Laughing wheezily, Catra pulled Adora closer, and the blond huffed as she embraced Catra once more. “I was just _saying…_ We all know how Shadow Weaver would react if she heard half the shit you spew.” Catra cast a sidewards glance towards Adora, smiling fondly at her furrowed brow and taut shoulders.

“What **did** you mean, anyway?”

Adora exhaled, gazing upwards at the smudgy dark sky.

“When we graduate…all we’re going to do is fight. And fighting’s fine, but they’ll be no classes or homework or teachers to fill the time. Every single day we’ll do the same thing, and we might never accomplish any real goal. I just…I’m…”

Catra frowned, reaching out to twine her fingers with Adora’s. Her hands were hot and clammy, and Catra squeezed them gently.

“Guess you’ll have to make do with me. And if you’re still not happy? -” Catra shrugged, eyes glinting as she glanced away. “I _suppose_ we’ll have to run away.”

Adora chuckled, pecking Catra on the cheek before curling around her.

“Now, who was it that sounded like a Princess again, _huh_?”

If Adora sounded longing, Catra chose not to comment.

She couldn’t lose Adora to her own desires. 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Adora gasped, hacking and croaking, bent double and snapped in two like a wishbone unspent as the memory, _Catra’s_ memory, washed away.

Etheria **damn it.**

Slamming her fist into a fizzing wall, she hissed as her heart shuddered in protest. Adora kneaded her chest, yet with every step she took, the pain intensified, searing through her in fiery waves. Stumbling to her knees, cursing in agony, Adora closed her eyes, and opened them through another’s.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**“WHO THE FUCK SHOT HER? ANSWER ME, BASTARDS.”**

Two hands, trembling, juddering. Past them in the distance lay Adora, slumped and bloody.

Catra was running, past bullets and shells, past warring soldiers, uncaring of who she had to shove or slam aside, desperate to reach _who_ mattered.

Catra had grasped the red of Adora’s jacket, Catra was dragging Adora away, inhaling air sharply, panting as she slung Adora to safety, sobbing as she grasped the sword and swung it-

_down_

one

_down_

two

_down_

**three**

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Adora spasmed on the ground, reeling at the tendrils of pain that clawed at her in every heart she had, hissing through clenched teeth.

_It had always been her._

Every arrow landed eventually, and Adora had been missing her target for a long time. Fighting for the Horde _had been_ important to her. Fighting for the Rebellion **was** important to her.

Catra was what she _wanted_ though.

The Rebellion _needed_ her, but Catra had only ever _wanted_ her, and there was a difference, a fine line that separated the two.

Both existed without the other, regardless of how they felt.

But **fuck** , Adora _wanted_ Catra.

It had always been her, and Adora had been wrong every time.

_They should have run away, for fucks sake. They should have left._ But she hadn’t, so Catra had stayed too, even when it hurt.

Adora pulled herself to her feet, wiping the sweat from her brow. Ignorance was a bliss she no longer had. It was gone, and Adora knew what came next.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When Adora found Catra, she was badmouthing Light Hope, and if there was anything that brought a smile bubbling to Adora’s lips, it was Catra’s sass.

Catra turned to leave, and Adora stepped out of the shadows. There was _so much_ to say, _so much_ to heal…

But _maybe_ , just for now…

**_“Catra, it’s Glimmer and Bow and you know it.”_ **

A trembling hand brushed away her hair, and it felt like fireworks, like flying untethered, like fire that warmed a home and crops that grew so strong and tall, you’d hardly know they were never there.

Adora reached out one more time, (because **every** time was worth it, **every** chance had to be taken) and she caught Catra’s hand in her own.

**_“-I think maybe you do want to be here.”_ **

A presumptuous statement if she’d ever made one, but she _had_ to try. Adora was willing to fall over the edge every time.

Catra would always catch her, eventually.

**“I do.”**

They shone as the clouds parted above them.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

_One_

_two_

_three_

_xxxx_

**_Time resumed._ **

Glimmer swung a glittering fist, and Catra hit the stone wall with a thud, the sword of power clattering beside her. Glimmer pounced, snarling as she grasped Catra’s uniform, pulling her to eye level.

“ **You bastard.”**

Glimmer struck Catra in the face, and blood-flecked spit escaped her bruised lips. Catra’s eyes were unfocused, gazing beyond her attacker, and Glimmer growled furiously.

**“By the time I’m done with you, you’ll regret-** “

“Glimmer, stop.”

A hand came to rest on Glimmers shoulders, lean and corded, calloused and burnt at the edges.

With swimming eyes, Glimmer turned to face the voice, fist falling to her side, slackened and swinging. Catra fell back to the ground, and Bow felt himself lurch forwards, a lump fast forming in his throat.

_“ **Adora…”**_

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The carriage wagon was damp, and the nervous flicker of the oil lamp was fading fast. Adora leant back against the wagon’s wood grain, closing her eyes as she traced a hand over where her wound _should have_ been.

She’d died today, and Catra had pulled her back from the brink. And now here she was, being ridden home without a scratch.

Adora hadn’t been scared to die- it hadn’t occurred to her through the blood and sweat. In a way, she’d been glad, because if dying had meant being in _Catra’s_ arms…

…Adora sighed, setting the thought aside for another time.

Glimmer and Bow had begrudgingly accepted Catra’s role in her survival. The smooth skin beneath her palm was evidence enough.

Catra should have been there to prove it too, though

As Bow and Glimmer had embraced her tearfully, Catra had snuck away, leaving nothing but a trail of blood in her wake. Adora had made to follow, only to sink to her knees with exhaustion as she was pulled back. Adora would have (s _hould have?)_ wept bitterly, but, well… you can't fight the tears that ain't coming. She was tired, too tired. Stretched thin by the same thoughts that pulled her taught every fucking day.

It had meant **something**. Adora knew it had. She’d felt it, and so had Catra.

All Adora could do was trust.

Exhaling deeply, her tongue heavy and dry in her mouth, Adora pulled the rough blanket over her shoulders, shielding herself from the flies and mosquito’s as the beat of horse hooves lulled her into a thoughtless, numb slumber. Her muscles ached, her body slump with fatigue, and her eyelids shuttered without consent.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Bright Moon was right where Adora had left it, and it greeted Adora with **noise** , with **carnivals** , with **feasts** and **celebratory toasts** and **stifling parties**.

Everyone was celebrating a great victory, but all Adora could do was mourn.

She’d _wasted_ so many years. Catra and her…they could have been happy! Catra could have been by her side all this time. However, as current events seemed to compound, love given did not always equivalate to love received. Bright Moon was giving her so much, yet… somehow it all felt hollow without Catra.

The warrior’s ball was no exception. What had sounded like a vaguely enjoyable night was nothing more than a fad of fabric clad dancers, leaving Adora little choice in her own mind than to escape up the ~~cordoned off~~ stairs to the rooftop. It was caustically funny. Back in the Horde, she’d never seen the stars- they’d been obscured by lights and ships and cold metal. Adora missed it, in an awful way. Yet now she _could_ see them, what was the point? What was the point of seeing the stars if she was the only person witness?

Maybe this was how Catra had felt. Catra had loved Adora like the stars, Adora knew that, but Adora had only ever shone for herself. It hadn’t been out of malice; stars did what they knew to do, same as Adora had. But it had been ignorant.

It had been _easy_.

**Dear Etheria** , Adora had many apologies to make.

_She was sorry for not seeing,_

_sorry for not hearing,_

_sorry for not speaking,_

_sorry for not leaving._

_She was sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, so **fucking** sorry._

Curling tighter, Adora bumped her forehead against her knees.

She was just sorry.

…

A soft patter to Adora’s left

startled her eyes open.

Tousled, greasy dark hair,

and blue yellow eyes greeted her.

Adora sat up, swallowing,

as her legs began to shake.

**“ _Hey_ , Adora…”**

It had always been her.

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“Do you _even remember_ how to do this?”

They moved slowly, giggling and swaying from one side of the rooftop fence to the other, as gentle as the spring breeze that followed them.

“’Course I do, dummy. You forced me to practice enough you kn-“

“-Hey, DID NOT!”

**_One_ **

Adora lay a hand on Catra’s waist, another on her cheek, and Catra mirrored as they swayed to the faint thrum of music from the ball.

**_Two_ **

Catra had the audacity to wear that damned suit again, and Adora was absolutely smitten.

**_Three_ **

“How did you find me? I could have been anywhere in Bright Moon.”

Catra exhaled through her nose, smiling gently.

“Guess I followed your scent…you reek enough, stinky.”

Adora swatted Catra as the latter stuck out a tongue in menace.

“ _Idiot_.”

Adora stopped moving, choosing instead to grasp Catra close.

“I could feel you. I just _knew_. That magical princess shit we pulled back there?” Catra shrugged. “It did something. I… I see things through your eyes sometimes. Places that seem ordinary to me suddenly have me swept up in some dumbass memory of yours…” Catra grinned crookedly in Adora’s direction. “Did you _seriously_ cause that huge fucking explosion in chamber sixteen?”

“It was an accident!”

“Accident my arse!”

When the laughter receded, Adora sighed, running careful fingertips through Catra’s hair.

“You…you don’t have to tell me. But why did you- “

“-Why did I run?”

Catra snorted, casting a glare to the stars.

“’Cos I’m dumb, and my head was filled up with a fuck ton of your junk. I went back to the Horde, stole a skiff and two friends, then spent a while in the middle of nowhere.” Pursing her lips, Catra’s eyes met Adora’s.

“Part of you is with me, feather head. You really want to say something to me right now. And it’ll hurt. But, you know…” Rocking on her heels, Catra swung Adora in a sudden arc, smiling wickedly at her shrieks.

**“** Maybe that’s **okay!”** Catra’s voice lifted, strengthened with resolve, and she was fire and light, flying and growing, all at once in a whirlwind that stole Adora’s breath.

**“Maybe, for people like us, the best things hurt us the worst when everything’s wrong!”**

They were dancing again, breathless and panting as Catra exulted.

**“I was stuck, Adora! I couldn’t see a way out, and then you nearly fucking died!”**

They zig-zagged, plummeted, tossed and turned.

**“And you weren’t observant back then, and it would have been nice if you’d seen my pain, but at the end of the day, what’s the fucking point of blaming this all on you? It was the Horde that did this to us! You didn’t hurt me, _they_ did.”**

Adora croaked, strained and tense. “But I’m the one who did nothing, and I’m _so sorry_ \- “

**“And you’re forgiven!”**

Catra twirled Adora before pulling her back in, dropping to one knee and beaming.

“ **And** _-”_ Catra’s tone shifted, softer and gentler now, whispered like a message meant for only one. _“-I’m sorry too_ , for all the stupid, stupid things I did! But Instead of being sorry for things we can’t change?” Catra licked her lips, meeting Adora’s gaze. “Let’s make a promise. A _new promise_.”

Adora nodded, feeling the cloth of Catra’s jacket beneath her fingertips, grounding herself in the texture, as if she’d float away. Catra held her just as tight, shining in the darkness.

“If you always watch out for me, if you _swear_ to have my back… I promise to be…to be good. To be that good person you know I can be. I promise to make Etheria better…if you’ll let me?”

Dear Etheria, Catra’s face was so vulnerable in the moonlight, so tender. Catra was holding out all she was in her hands, and Adora felt a wall within her tear down.

“Oh, **_Catra_** …”

Adora fell into Catra’s arms, and they tumbled to the ground. Adora held onto Catra, her face, her hair, her body, her _everything,_ breathless nods punctuated with “yes” and “ _yes_ ” and “ ** _yes_** ”.

It would always be “yes”.


End file.
